The acidity and sneering criticism suddenly died out of Thurso's mind. His moods altered quickly enough and violently; it may have been that only. "You know I want to be cured," he said. Cochrane made a little sign to Maud, who left the room, leaving the two men alone. "Yes, I know you do," he said gently, "and you're going to be cured. But you can help or hinder. All breakfast, you know, you've been hindering. 'Tis such a pity. You've been asking questions, which I love to be asked, and love answering too, when I can answer them, not because you wanted to know, but because you wanted to catch me out. Why, of course, you can catch me out, because often and often I am bound by error and claims of mortal mind. Also, I don't know absolutely everything--I don't indeed. But when you want to catch me out like that, it means you are adopting a hostile attitude to me and to that which I hope to bring you. That hinders me. It isn't fair." Cochrane shook his head at him, like some nice boy remonstrating kindly with a friend whom he likes for not "playing the game." Then he went on more seriously. "Now, what's the trouble?" he said. "Why are you hostile? Is it just because Infinite Love came to your help last night, and sent you to sleep, instead of letting you drink that poisonous stuff? I guess it's that. But to think or suggest that I hypnotised you or drugged you is childish. To doubt that it all happened in any other way than the way it did is error on your part. Why not accept a perfectly simple explanation. Can you seriously offer any other? How often before, when you've been wanting the stuff badly, and have known you would get it in an hour, have you dropped off to sleep instead? Why, never. And what is the first occasion of it happening? When I was treating you, bringing you into the presence of Divine Love--not suggesting things either to Him or you, but just leaving you together. I treated you for some four hours last night, beginning soon after dinner." "But it's all impos----" began Thurso. "I don't understand it, anyhow." "That's a different matter," said Cochrane. "But explain. If you've brought me there, is it all over? Am I cured?" "No; because you have made a habit of error, and that habit has to be broken. You've got to form a new habit of non-error. You will have to put yourself in the hands of Love often and often before you get rid of this. At least, I expect that, though we can't tell in what manner He will choose to heal you. But I expect that: from what we know a habit takes longer to cure than an occasional lapse. It is hard to forget a thing we have got by heart. And we've got to ask, to keep on asking." Again the hostile attitude was smothered, and interest took its place. "But why?" asked Thurso. "Why, if error is all a mistake, without real existence, does it bind us? How can it?" "Gracious! I can't tell you," said Cochrane. "But there's no doubt it is so."